


Drawn to You

by godtier1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, M/M, artist/model
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtier1/pseuds/godtier1
Summary: Cobb Vanth lives a rather solitary life, and he’s completely fine with that, thank you very much. He spends his days drawing and painting from the comfort of his lonely little apartment. That is, until his friends convince him to join a figure drawing class, and he starts falling in love with the model...
Relationships: Boba Fett/Fennec Shand (background), Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 31
Kudos: 66





	1. Blank Page

Cobb sighed as he read the sign on the classroom door. “Figure Drawing: 8 pm on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.” He checked his phone. It was fifteen til six. He must have gotten the time wrong. Shit.

He ran a hand through his gray hair in irritation. He lived an hour away, on the other side of town. It wouldn’t make sense to run home, only to have to come straight back.

Not that he particularly wanted to be here in the first place. While Cobb was well-practiced in both drawing   
and painting, he much preferred to do it in the comfort of his own apartment, thank you very much. His downstairs neighbors, however, had grown tired of seeing him mope around the complex.

“Honestly, all you do is putter around up there all day. You sound like a caged zoo animal,” Fennec had remarked over their weekly dinner. “Don’t you get bored? I swear, I don’t even think you’d eat unless we fed you once a week.”

Cobb had just shrugged as he picked at his plate. “I paint occasionally. Keeps me occupied enough.”

“Okay, but aren’t you lonely? Do you even see anyone else besides me and Boba?”

“Why would I need anyone else when I keep company as charming as yours?” Cobb drawled sarcastically as he took a drink from his glass. 

“You’re such an asshole, Vanth,” Fennec replied, throwing a napkin at Cobb’s head.

Boba looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, the art center downtown offers a handful of different classes each month. You should look into one of those.” 

Cobb stalled with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Huh,” he said, “I haven’t taken a class in years.”

“Might do you some good, friend,” Boba said, offering him more wine.

“Don’t give him anymore, Boba, he’ll pass out halfway up the stairs again. Fuckin’ lightweight,” Fennec said, looking halfway between amused and annoyed.

Cobb shrugged as he stood up from the table. “I need to get going anyway. Thanks for the lovely, berating conversation. Always a pleasure.”

Boba walked him to the door, and as Cobb was about to walk up the stairs he said, “think about it, Cobb. We really do worry about you.”

Cobb sighed, eyes downcast. “I’ll think about it.”

He hadn’t given it a second thought. He was just as content to continue living the way he had for the past decade. However, two days later, a flier on brightly colored paper slid under his front door.

“Outdoor watercolor class, Monday-Wednesday at 2 pm.”

Cobb rolled his eyes. If the Fetts were going to get him out of his apartment, they were going to have to try harder than that. 

A day later, a second flier slid under his door. 

“Underwater basket weaving, Fridays at 5 pm,” it read.

Cobb had laughed out loud at that one. Really Boba? 

On the third day, however, the flier had actually caught his interest.

“Figure Drawing, Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at…” From there it was difficult to discern what time the class was offered, because it was half-covered in Fennec’s messy scrawl. 

“Hell yeah, go draw some dicks and asses!!” it read. Accompanied was a very crude drawing, also no doubt Fennec’s doing. 

Cobb studied the flier for a moment. He had taken figure drawing, all throughout college and well into his adult years. Some artists he had known claimed it to be a waste of time, but Cobb had known better. It had always been extremely relaxing to him, and at times when he had been stuck on a particular project, he swore that it was always a good idea to go back to the basics. 

Maybe it would be worth his while.

In the present, he stared down at the flier in his hand, with Fennec’s rude drawing, and realized that oh yes. It did say eight pm. It was hidden somewhere under the left nut.

He sighed again, as he made himself comfortable on the only bench in the hallway. He wasted hours, everyday, in his lonely apartment. Surely he could kill two hours here. 

He had just opened a messaging app on his phone to type “thanks for nothin” to Fennec, when footsteps echoed down the hallway. 

The man that appeared a moment later was tall, but still a good head shorter than Cobb, and a good deal more broad. He had dark, curly hair, and when he was closer Cobb could detect the deepest brown eyes he had ever seen. He was wearing jeans with a rip in the right knee, and a black leather jacket. He had a messenger bag slung over his chest and a coffee in one hand. He looked surprised to see Cobb there.

“Are you here for figure drawing?” he asked. When Cobb nodded he said, “it doesn’t start until eight, and the instructor doesn’t unlock the door until ten minutes before.” Cobb blushed, embarrassed.

“Yeah, I see that now. I got the time wrong.”

The man nodded sympathetically. “No worries, it happens.” He looked around for a moment before asking, “do you mind if I join you? I’m early too. I wanted to beat the traffic.”

“Sure thing,” Cobb said, scooting over to make room on the bench. He patted the space besides him.

“Thanks,” the man said as he sat down. He offered Cobb his hand. “I’m Din.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Cobb,” he said with a smile, shaking Din’s hand. 

“Likewise.” There was silence for a moment, and then, “is this your first class?”

“It’s my first class here, but not my first rodeo, so to speak.”

Din looked curious at that. “Oh? So you’re a seasoned artist then? How long have you been drawing?”

Cobb laughed. “My whole life. It’s pretty second nature by now.”

Din nodded. “You’ll fit right in then. We get a whole range of artists here, with different ages and levels of experience. The instructor is Ahsoka Tano, and she’s very good. Don’t take it personally if she criticizes your art. She does it to everyone.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Cobb replied. “How long have you been here?”

Din took a sip of his coffee. “A couple of years. I only started because I owed Ahsoka a favor, but I came to really enjoy it. It’s always nice to chat with the other artists and watch as they grow and improve.”

Cobb smiled. What a kind thing to say. This whole conversation was wildly out of his comfort zone, since he only ever conversed with Boba and Fennec these days. But something about Din immediately calmed him down, and he felt at ease talking to him. 

“What do you do for work, Din? Are you an artist by trade?”

Din snorted at that. “Oh god no. I’m a nurse actually.”

Cobb’s eyes widened at that. “Oh really? That’s a difficult profession.”

“You’re telling me. I’m lucky I even have the time to show up for this class every week. Thankfully I have a good friend that can watch my son while I’m here.”

“Oh? You have a family?” Cobb asked, feeling a little envious. He hoped Din wouldn’t ask him to explain his own sad, lonely life. 

“Just the son,” Din replied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He took out a photo and passed it to Cobb. There was Din, holding a very young, possibly newborn, baby. 

“His name is Grogu. He’s technically my nephew, but my sister….” he trailed off, a sad look on his face. “I was his godfather. He’s been with me since he was one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry… about your sister,” Cobb said sympathetically. Din just shook his head.

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago. It’s a shame that Grogu never got to know her though. But I’m thankful he’s in my life all the same.” He smiled warmly over Cobb’s shoulder at his own photo. “He’s a good kid. He’s seven now, which makes me feel ancient.”

Cobb laughed as he passed the picture back to Din. “You don’t look that old. What are you, thirty-five?”

Din doubled over himself, and at first Cobb worried he had offended him. But then Din was laughing, rich and deep, and Cobb thought he could get used to that sound.

“Try forty-three. Thanks for the confidence boost though. You have no idea how vicious seven year olds can be.” He smiled wryly as he put his wallet away. “By the way, I have more recent photos than this, on my phone, but I won’t bore you with them.”

Cobb turned himself to fully face Din. “Come on now, don’t hold out on me. Let’s see them!”

For the next hour the two men sat on the bench, side by side, as Din showed Cobb photos from his phone. It wasn’t difficult to see the family resemblance, Grogu looked a lot like Din. It also wasn’t difficult to see how crazy Din was about this little boy. There were easily hundreds, if not thousands, of images of him and his son. There were photos taken at the zoo, with Grogu’s face pressed to the glass of an enclosure full of poisonous frogs. Another set of photos seemed to depict Grogu’s graduation from kindergarten. Another image was a child’s drawing, to which Din explained, “Grogu is also an artist, and he’s pretty good. I honestly don’t know where he gets it.” 

By the time Cobb finally looked up from Din’s phone, there were other students milling about, and a tall, thin woman was unlocking the classroom door. 

“Oh, I’ve really talked your ear off, haven’t I Cobb? Sorry, that’s not like me. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

Cobb shook his head with a smile. “The opposite, actually. This was nice.” He was surprised at how much he’d meant it.

Din smiled back at him, all kindness and warmth. “You should go grab a seat before all the good ones are taken. I’ll meet you in there.” He walked off down the other end of the hallway with a little wave, disappearing into another classroom.

Cobb sat there a moment, slightly dumbstruck, until he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Don’t go falling in love with the first person to pay you any mind,” he said to himself under his breath.

He entered the small classroom and took a seat in the very back. He knew, logistically, that the best seats were those in the front, but he was rusty, and wanted to give himself a chance to regain his confidence. He took out his oversized sketchbook and some charcoal and got to work setting up. He dated the first page and took a deep breath. Starting a new sketchbook was always daunting, like starting a new chapter in life. But the feel of the charcoal on his hands was nostalgic, and he suddenly felt right at home.

The lady who Din had called Ahsoka took to the front of the room. 

“Welcome!” she said, gaze open and friendly. “I see a few new faces, wonderful! I’m glad you’re all here! Let’s get right to work, shall we? I’d like you all to pick something new to focus on today, and I’ll be around to help where I can!”

Cobb was just wondering what type of model they would have today, when he caught a flash of white move in his periphery. 

And then there was Din, clad in nothing but a bathrobe, moving to the front of the class. Cobb just about broke the charcoal piece he was holding.

“Hello Din! Thanks for your help, as always!” Ahsoka said fondly. Din gave her a smile right back as he went to undo the sash.

Oh god, Cobb thought to himself.

He was really, truly, fucked, wasn’t he?


	2. Gesture Drawings

Cobb had to take a moment to remember how to breathe. This was just figure drawing, he told himself. Just art. He’d probably drawn nearly a hundred models, if not more, over his career. While he knew they were people, same as everyone here, drawing them was no different than doing a still life. 

But unlike the other models he’d depicted in his art over the years, he had just spent two hours talking to this one. Had learned how he took his coffee, what kinds of music he liked, what he did on the weekends. He learned what he did for a living, and that he had an adorable seven-year old son. He learned that he had the most beautiful brown eyes, and that his laugh made him feel warm all over.

Cobb had learned that maybe, his own heart wasn’t as dead as he thought it was. 

By the time he had come back to himself, Ahsoka had already asked Din to change poses for the next gesture drawing. Art class. Right. He could do this. He picked up his charcoal and started drawing. 

It was awkward, at first, in a way it had never been for him before. But a few gesture drawings in, he had relaxed again, his fingers remembering what his brain had forgotten. His eyes barely left Din’s figure, only glancing down occasionally to the page in front of him. 

If he had let himself think too hard, he might have fully appreciated Din’s wide shoulders, or the way his back muscles flexed as he moved from pose to pose. He might have admired his collar bones, and how they dipped down to his broad, hairy chest. He might have marveled at his soft stomach, and the toned muscle that resided underneath. 

But Cobb didn’t let himself dwell on any of these things. He let himself notice them, translate them to the page, and then let them go.

He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t even hear the instructor walk up behind him, didn’t hear her gasp as she looked at his work over his shoulder. 

“My god, surely this can’t be your first time doing this, can it?” she said reverently.

Cobb visibly jumped, scratching a thick, crude line of charcoal over half the page. He looked up at Ahsoka and shook his head. 

“Phew, good, I thought I was going to have a heart attack!” she said with a laugh. “These are fantastic, I’m so impressed. I don’t think I caught your name before?”

“It’s Cobb,” he choked out.

“Well Cobb, this is a first, but I legitimately cannot think of a single thing to critique here! Maybe I should let you teach instead!”

By now the other students were peering around their sketch pads at Cobb, and even Din’s eyes had turned to him curiously. 

Cobb blushed, clearly flustered. With a final nod at his sketchbook, Ahsoka walked to the next student, but not before remarking, “if you all have time after class, you should really take a look at Cobb’s art, there's a lot you can learn from him!”

As Cobb’s heart finally stopped racing against his rib cage, he could hear Ahsoka’s voice again and the sounds of graphite and charcoal on paper. He took a deep, grounding breath, readjusted in his seat, and continued drawing. 

At ten o’clock Ahsoka moved back to the front of the room. “Alright everyone, time’s up! Thank you all for your diligence and hard work! Next class will be on Monday! Have a good weekend!”

She chatted with some of her students as they began to pack their supplies away for the night. Din replaced his robe and walked out of the room, smiling warmly at Cobb as he passed. 

It was then that the stress of the evening hit Cobb like a freight train. Remembering what Ahsoka had said to the rest of the class, about checking out his work on their way out, he quickly packed his charcoals away and hurried out of the room. If he had been paying attention as he walked briskly down the hall, he might have glanced at Din on the opposite end. And he might have seen the other man’s smile falter. 

His hour long commute back to his apartment was wracked with anxiety. God, what a mess. He couldn’t believe he had let himself start falling for the first person to so much as smile at him in years. Couldn’t believe the same person had also happened to be the goddamn model.

When he got home, he threw his sketchbook and bag in the corner of his bedroom. Out of sight, out of mind.

He laid awake that night for hours. And when he finally did sleep, he dreamt of olive skin under bright, fluorescent lights. He dreamt of cozy conversation and genuine laughter. And he dreamt of a sweet, sincere smile and warm, brown eyes. 

The next day was Friday, which was dinner night with Boba and Fennec. He groaned at the thought. 

When he showed up at their apartment that evening, the Fetts wasted no time in grilling him about his class. 

“How was figure drawing?” Boba asked as he ushered Cobb to the dinner table. Cobb shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, trying to feign indifference. 

“Fine,” he said.

“Really? Just fine? Did you enjoy it at all?”

“Yeah. It was good to get out of the house. I guess.”

Fennec set down a plate in front of Cobb, slapping his arm lightly as she went.

“Did you get to draw titties? Or cock?”

Cobb choked on his own saliva.

“Both?” she exclaimed, sounding excited. “Damn, nice!”

“Would you let us see your drawings?” Boba asked sincerely. Cobb shook his head fervently. 

“Aw, why not?” Fennec asked, disappointed. Boba shot her a look.

“That’s ok, Cobb. I’m just glad you had fun.”

“Can we please talk about something else? Anything else,” Cobb pleaded, sinking into his seat.

There was a beat of silence. And then Fennec spoke,

“Well was the dick model hot at least?”

“I’m going home,” Cobb said, standing up and moving to the door.

“Cobb come on, get back over here. And Fennec, stop teasing him,” Boba said, looking at each of them in turn. 

The rest of the meal was slightly tense, but although Cobb knew they were still curious, they didn’t harass him again until he was leaving for the night. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Cobb said on the way out.

“When is your next class?” Boba called from the kitchen, elbow deep in dish soap.

“Probably not gonna go,” Cobb replied, slipping on his boots.

Boba was at the door in an instant, hands on his hips and suds dripping on the carpet.

“Cobb,” he began sternly, “are you really content with the way things are now?”

“I am, thanks,” he replied, reaching for the door handle. Boba blocked his arm.

“Look, I know you don’t like to talk about this, but it’s been years since….”

“Boba, please. I’m tired. Can I just go home?”

Boba sighed, head thrown back dramatically. “Fine. Do what you want. It’s not like Fennec and I aren’t used to watching your self-destructive tendencies.”

“Glad you understand,” he said, stepping out of the door and ascending the stairs.

When he walked into his living room the next morning, there was a familiar flier by the front door.

“Figure Drawing: Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at 8 pm”

Cobb rolled his eyes as he threw it in the trash. Those two were ridiculous.

Four hours later, there were two more fliers by the door.

“Where are they getting all of these?” he mumbled under his breath.

On Sunday morning there was a pile by the front door of at least a dozen fliers.

“Oh my GOD,” Cobb exclaimed in frustration. He raked his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands irritatedly. 

He had thought about it, about returning for the next class. He was still mortified about Ashoka calling him out like she did, and the whole thing was still wildly out of his comfort zone.

But then he thought of Din. 

After thinking it over for a few days, the anxiety in his chest had subsided somewhat. Din was just another person. And he had genuinely enjoyed his company. He really wouldn’t mind talking to him again…

Cobb opened the door to his balcony and stepped outside. He threw his slipper to the balcony below, and it thudded against the Fett’s door.

“Fine! I’ll go tomorrow! Are you happy?”

He could hear the door below him open, and a minute later his own slipper was hitting him in the face.

“Yup!” Fennec’s voice shouted from below. 

Monday afternoon, Cobb decided he would show up at six again, in the hopes that Din would do the same. He strolled down the familiar hallway, and took a seat at the bench.

Fifteen minutes passed. And then a half hour. And then an hour. Cobb checked his phone obsessively, watching the minutes tick by.

And then Ahsoka was unlocking the classroom door, and Din was nowhere to be seen. Cobb’s posture deflated, clearly disappointed. Maybe he would be able to talk to him after class?

But Din did not show up for class either, a different model taking his place under the spotlight. Oh well, Cobb thought to himself. It was probably for the best.

Cobb showed up for Wednesday’s session at six once again, not realizing he’d shown up early out of habit until he was already there. He sat on the bench and took out a smaller sketchbook that he used for doodling. He heard footsteps down the hall.

And then there was Din.

He looked much the same as last time, save for a blue hoodie instead of a black leather jacket, and he was carrying two large coffees.

“Hey Cobb,” he greeted with a smile. “Something told me you’d show up earlier again.” 

Cobb’s heart did a little flip in his chest. He gave Din a smile and a little wave. “Hello Din, missed you last session.” He mentally slapped himself. Good going Vanth, way to sound over-eager.

“Oh yeah, I’m only here on Wednesdays and Thursdays. My babysitter is busy on Mondays.”

“I see,” Cobb replied. “Well, it’s good to see you again. I’m glad you weren’t sick or something.”

Din held out one of the cups he was carrying. “Do you drink coffee? I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I guessed. Don’t feel obligated to drink it if you don’t like it.”

Cobb blushed, unable to stop himself. “Ah, I do. Drink coffee, that is. That was very kind of you, thanks.”

He accepted the drink, fingers brushing against Din’s, and breathed in the steam from the hot beverage. It smelled sweet. He found out that it tasted even sweeter.

“Wow, good guess there partner. What is this?”

Din grinned. “Hazelnut macchiato. Two pumps of vanilla. I have an uncanny knack for guessing what types of drinks people like. I’m glad my reputation remains.”

“I should say so!” Cobb laughed. “That’s like the most useless skill I’ve ever heard, but I’m happy for you.” Cobb winced at his wording. Not everyone was used to his sarcasm.

To his immense relief, Din threw his head back and laughed. “It worked out well for you, didn’t it?”

They sat side by side in comfortable silence as they enjoyed their drinks. Din was the first to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry that Ahsoka put you on the spot last Thursday. I’ve never seen her do that before. You rushed out of the building so fast I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

At his downcast gaze, Cobb felt painfully guilty. He was about to apologize, when Din continued. 

“You must be very talented. Ashoka has suggestions for even her top students.”

Cobb felt his face heat up again. He fiddled with the scarf he wore around his neck. 

“Ah, well, you know. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have…”

“You talk like you’re way older than you look,” Din said, peering over the steam from his cup. It was Cobb’s turn to laugh.

“I’m forty-seven, so I’m older than you.”

Din sputtered. “Seriously? When you asked my age last time, I assumed it was because you were the same age you thought I was.”

“Okay now I know you’re just putting me on, there’s no way in hell I look like I’m thirty-five.”

Din chuckled. “I suppose not. I guess I’m only good for guessing drink orders. My useless super power.”

They shared a grin. And then Din looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Did you let any of the other students see your work last session? You didn’t seem too keen on that on Thursday.” He looked slightly hopeful. Cobb shook his head.

“Nah, there’s not much to learn from me. I’m sure I’m not any better than anyone else here.”

“That’s too bad,” Din said, sounding disappointed.

The two men chatted right up until the start of class, and then again afterwards. They walked out to their cars together, into the chilly September air. Cobb visibility shivered. 

“Are you cold?” Din asked. Cobb nodded, teeth slightly chattering. 

“I keep forgetting it gets this cold at night.”

Din looked thoughtful for a moment as he tossed his keys into the air and caught them. Then he was taking off his hoodie and offering it to Cobb.

“Din, wha-“

“You’ve got a long drive home, right? I don’t want you to freeze.”

Cobb suddenly felt too warm for the button up he was wearing, despite shivering only a moment ago. Something about Din did that to him. 

“Are you sure? Won’t you be cold?”

“Nah, I run hot, it drives Grogu nuts in the summer. Plus I’ve only got a ten minute drive.” 

Cobb accepted the garment from Din and ran his fingers over the soft fabric. It was obviously well-worn and well-loved. 

“Thank you,” he said, slightly breathless.

“You’re welcome,” Din replied fondly as Cobb slipped it over his head. His thin frame was absolutely swimming in the too-large clothing, but he didn’t mind. It smelled strongly of coffee and slightly of sweat. 

“See you tomorrow?” Din asked hopefully.

“You’d better hope so, or you won’t be getting your hoodie back,” Cobb said with a smirk. Din chuckled softly.

“I’m not worried.”

As Cobb watched Din drive in the opposite direction through his rear view mirror, he had a familiar thought cross his mind. 

He was really, and truly, fucked.


	3. Two-Minute Warm-Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna slap a trigger warning on here just in case for a character that isn’t eating enough due to a bad financial situation. It’s not an eating disorder, but if that sort of thing is particularly triggering, please be mindful!

By Cobb’s fourth week of class, he and Din had developed a routine, at the very least on Wednesdays and Thursday when they were both there together. Din would show up, at ten til six, with two coffees in tow, and Cobb would show up slightly after. By week five Cobb started bringing baked goods, usually cookies or brownies, to share with Din.

“Wait, you made these?” Din would ask after swallowing a particularly large bite. When Cobb would nod, he would continue, “Damn! Is there anything you can’t do?” Cobb would just duck his head, trying to hide the blush spreading over his face.

As time progressed, they began showing up earlier and earlier, and staying after class later and later, chatting all the while. Cobb learned all sorts of things about Din during their time together. He learned that Din was a decent cook, but was perpetually frustrated by how picky his son had gotten. He learned that he used to lift weights, before Grogu had come along. But now, between being a single parent and working in the emergency room, he was always too tired to put any time into it. He learned that Din loved dogs, and on the rare occasions that he had a free day after work, he would volunteer at the local animal shelter. 

But, most of all, Cobb had learned that Din was probably the most kind, compassionate person he had ever met. He was constantly putting other people’s needs before his own, whether it be his son, or his friends, or Cobb himself. His chest warmed pleasantly at the thought. It had been a long time since anyone had cared about Cobb like that. 

Late at night, when Cobb would lay in bed and stare unseeingly at the ceiling, he would tell himself that he wasn’t in love with Din. Because Din was special, and he deserved someone equally special. Someone that was worthwhile. Someone who wasn’t an old fool like he was.

So no, he would tell himself. He wasn’t in love with Din.

But on those nights, he was lying to himself. 

About two months later, against Cobb’s wishes, Din learned something important about him in return. 

They each showed up, at five-thirty, and chatted while they drank their coffee, like they did every time. Class started as normal, except today they would have two models to work from, both Din and a short, pretty lady named Omera. Everyone was excited about this, because it wasn’t often that they had multiple models at the same time. 

About forty-five minutes into the session, Cobb started feeling rather faint. He quietly excused himself from the classroom, leaving his sketchbook and charcoal behind. He sat on the bench in the hallway, head in his hands and breathing deeply.

He could feel his vision starting to go white in his periphery. He closed his eyes, trying not to panic. How morifying would it be for the rest of the class to find him, an hour later, passed out in the hallway? Just when he could feel static in his ears, a solid sign that he was about to properly black out, he felt the weight of a warm hand on his back.

“Cobb?” he could hear Din’s voice say, as if he were underwater. “Are you alright?”

Cobb hummed, trying to stay awake, when he felt the loss of Din’s hand on his back, only to reappear on his wrist. They sat there a moment, Din counting under his breath, before he asked, “Can you walk Cobb? I’m going to take you down the hall, okay?”

He hefted Cobb up to standing, and led him down the hall, to the spare classroom that Din used to change into his robe at the beginning of class. He sat Cobb down, and began to rustle through his messenger bag. 

“Okay, I have crackers and fruit snacks,” he said with a laugh. “Sorry, it’s little kid food. But this should help.” He held them out to Cobb, who started nibbling on them slowly. 

They sat in silence as Cobb ate, and slowly he could feel himself coming out of the fainting spell he had almost fallen into. When his vision cleared, he looked up to see Din kneeling at his side, still wearing his robe. 

“Do you feel any better?” he asked, concern evident in his posture. Cobb nodded, but when he made to stand up, he swayed on the spot. Din caught him around the middle, and lowered him back into the chair.

“Okay, I”m going to take you home. Give me a minute to change, and we’ll leave.” Cobb opened his mouth to protest, but Din beat him to the punch when he said “Don’t worry, Omera and Ahsoka can take it from here. They really don’t need me tonight.” 

Cobb watched as Din gathered up his clothes from his bag, removed his robe, and began to get dressed. Despite the fact that Cobb saw him completely naked, at least twice a week, this felt strangely intimate. Almost like he was being privy to something that he shouldn’t. He watched as Din pulled on his boxers and his jeans, followed by a t shirt emblazoned with the logo of a metal band he enjoyed. Cobb looked away, feeling light-headed for a completely different reason now.

Din led Cobb back to the bench in the hallway, and sat him there as he went back to the classroom to fetch his drawing supplies. Cobb could hear muffled voices beyond the door.

“He isn’t feeling well, I’m going to take him home.”

“Oh dear, well tell him to feel better! Omera and I can take it from here.”

Din emerged with Cobb’s sketchbook and his bag full of charcoals. He directed him out of the building, into the cold November air, to Din’s beat up 1998 Honda Civic.

The first time Cobb had seen what kind of car the other man drove, Din had just laughed sheepishly. “I know it’s a piece of junk, and everyone keeps telling me to buy a new one. But I’ve had this car forever, and I don’t have the heart to part with it yet.” 

Once they were settled into the well-worn front seats, Din stole a sidelong glance at Cobb.

“Still hanging in there?” he asked. 

“Yeah…” Cobb replied with a terse nod. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have to bring me home. It’s going to take you two hours round-trip.”

Din just shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’d rather not worry about you getting into an accident on your way home.” 

They pulled out of the parking lot, and Cobb closed his eyes again, head against the passenger side window. God, he hoped Din wasn’t going to grill him about this. 

A few minutes later Din tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you like to eat?” he asked. Cobb opened his eyes to see that they had pulled into a fast food drive thru. Cobb paused.

“You don’t have to get anything for me.”

Din sighed, then rolled down the driver’s side window and ordered the same meal twice. Cobb felt painfully guilty.

After getting their food from the window, Din drove them to an empty parking space and turned off the car. He offered a burger and fries to Cobb, who eyed them warrily. The stern look on Din’s face told him he shouldn’t argue and just eat.

They ate in silence, and Cobb thought he might be off the hook, until Din asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Cobb sighed around a mouthful of cheeseburger. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with Din. Ever.

Din put down his food and turned to fully face his friend. “You’re not getting enough to eat are you?” When Cobb opened his mouth to protest, Din continued, “and don’t bullshit me, I know what malnutrition looks like.” 

Cobb groaned, leaning back in his seat. Din’s eyes were on him, waiting patiently for an answer. 

“You’ve never asked me what I did for a living,” Cobb said finally.

Din looked surprised. “I just assumed you were an artist?” 

Cobb nodded. “I do freelance work here and there, but… that’s all I’m able to do.” At Din’s confused stare, Cobb continued, “Essentially I don’t work. I was in an, ah…. accident, years ago. I won’t bore you with the gorey details. But I can’t hold down a regular job. The freelance work is enough to pay rent… most months. But during a bad week I don’t always have a lot left for groceries. And this was a pretty bad week. My neighbors have me over for dinner on Fridays because they worry about me,” he rolled his eyes, “so I was just trying to hold out until tomorrow.” 

Cobb couldn’t look at Din’s face, because he wasn’t sure what he would find there. Sympathy? Pity? Disgust? None of the options sounded pleasant.

“When was the last time you had anything to eat?” Din asked so quietly that Cobb almost missed it.

“Yesterday? I think?” 

Cobb was about to take another bite of his food, when he was being embraced. The angle in the cramped car was awkward, but it took Cobb’s breath away all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Din said softly. “I had this feeling that something was off about you, but couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Cobb’s breath died in his throat. When was the last time he had been embraced like this? When was the last time he had been hugged at all? It was overwhelming, but he didn’t pull away. He leaned his face into the crook of Din’s neck and took a steadying breath. 

“It’s okay,” Cobb said finally. “I didn’t exactly volunteer the information.” 

They sat like that, for a few minutes. Cobb felt close to tears, but refused to cry in front of Din. He already felt humiliated enough, having had to admit what he did.

“Cobb,” Din said seriously, “Thank you for telling me. That must not have been easy for you.”

Cobb nodded into Din’s collar bone. 

They finished their meal in silence, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. When Din pulled into Cobb’s apartment complex almost an hour later, he walked him into the building and up to his front door. They said their goodbyes, and just as Din had turned to leave, Cobb said,

“Din wait.”

Din turned around, curious. Cobb took a deep breath.

“Thank you. No one has done anything like that for me, aside from Boba and Fennec, in a long time. I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep doing stuff like that though, okay? Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself. And I’ll pay you back for your kindness, some day.”

Cobb wasn’t sure what he had expected Din to do or say. But it definitely hadn’t been a warm, sincere smile, followed by, 

“You pay me back everyday with your company. Just stick around by my side. That’s all I ask.” 

He gave Cobb a little wave and walked back down the stairs and out to his car. Cobb watched his headlights grow dimmer as Din drove off down the street.

And in that moment, it had become impossible for Cobb to deny his feelings any longer. Whether or not he believed he deserved Din’s attention or affection, he couldn’t deny the truth.

He had fallen, head over heels, in love with Din Djarin.


	4. Ten-Minute Quick Sketches

Dinner with the Fetts started off a little differently than normal the next day. At five in the afternoon, Cobb left his apartment, like he always did. He locked his front door and turned around to head downstairs, when he was startled by Fennec’s presence.

“Who’s your friend, Cobb?”

Cobb could have sworn he jumped a foot in the air.

“Jesus CHRIST Fennec, what the hell?” he exclaimed, a hand over his heart.

“I said, who brought you home last night?” she repeated, arms crossed over her chest.

Cobb rolled his eyes and went to walk past her, but she stepped in his way. 

“Are you dating?” she asked.

Cobb was becoming increasingly annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to answer Fennec’s crude and imposing questions.

“A friend,” he answered tersely.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Alright, have a good night, Fennec,” he said as he turned around to unlock his door.

“Cobb, come on. I’m not being a busybody to annoy you… for once.” She uncrossed her arms and sighed. “Look, Boba doesn’t want me to grill you, but I’m worried about you. I know it’s been a long time, since…you know,” she made a vague hand gesture. “If you’re dating again, that’s great and I’m happy for you. But your track record isn’t pretty and I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Her eyes flicked to the scar on Cobb’s temple. 

He sighed. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But seriously, he’s just a friend. I almost blacked out during class last night, so he bought me food and took me home.”

“He’s another art student?”

Cobb paused, willing the blush away from his face. “He’s… the model…”

Fennec gave a short, high laugh. “Okay, we’ll unpack that one later. But did you not have money for groceries this week? Me and Boba told you to come to us the next time that happens!”

Cobb just shrugged, looking anywhere but at Fennec. “Worked out fine, didn’t it?”

“No? You almost fainted, for god’s sake!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Cobb Vanth, how long have we known each other now?”

“Too long,” he said with a grin. She lightly punched his arm.

“Look, I know you don’t give a shit about your own well-being, but there are people who do. Boba and I do. And this ‘friend’ of yours, he cares enough to drive your sorry ass an hour each way. If you don’t want to take care of yourself, that’s your business. But will you at least think of us, next time you pull a stupid stunt like that?”

Cobb’s shoulders sagged and he exhaled through his mouth. “I’m sorry that I worry you all the time. I’ll come to you next time this happens. Promise.”

She clapped her hands together. “Cool. Glad to hear it. Now…” she stepped forward and put an arm on Cobb’s shoulder. “Is this guy hot or…?”

From then on, even during the bad weeks, Cobb very rarely went hungry. Boba and Fennec had convinced him to eat at their house on Tuesday nights as well as Fridays. And on Wednesdays and Thursdays, Din would take him to his favorite diner in town after class. Cobb would pay when he was able, and on the nights that he couldn’t, Din would pick up his tab. Cobb would swear that he would pay him back, and after hearing him say that enough, Din had an idea. 

“Can i commission you?” he asked as he munched on pancakes at eleven in the evening. At Cobb’s puzzled stare, Din clarified, “I mean, I really don’t care if you pay me back or not, but if you wanted to do something, maybe you could draw something for me and we could call it even?”

“That’s… actually a really good idea. Yeah, let’s do it! I’ll draw whatever you’d like!”

Din looked thoughtful, and then he pulled out his phone. He was looking for something, and then he slid it to Cobb. The photo was of a much younger Din, and a gorgeous woman who looked just like him. She was holding a baby.

“Your sister?” Cobb asked. Din nodded. “That’s… so personal. You haven’t even seen my work, are you sure you trust me with something like this?” Din chuckled.

“The only reason I haven’t seen your work is because you refuse to show anyone other than Ahsoka. But I trust you immensely. If you’re up for the task.”

Cobb’s eyes ran back and forth across the photograph, as if he was doing some quick thinking. Then he said “Yeah, I’m up for it. What did you have in mind?”

Cobb began work on the portrait of Din’s sister as soon as he got home that night. He worked on it until there was a knock on the door at five in the afternoon the next day. When he opened the door he was covered in a fine layer of dust from his pastel chalks. 

“Oh, in the middle of a project are you?” Boba asked, chuckling at the state Cobb was in. “I hate to interrupt, but dinner is ready, if you’ll still join us?”

Once Friday dinner was over, Cobb returned to his project, and worked on it for the rest of the weekend, barely stopping long enough to sleep for more than a couple of hours. This felt like the most important thing he had ever drawn. He wanted it to be perfect.

When he showed up early for class on Wednesday, he was carrying a large bag under his arm. God, he was so nervous. He really hoped this was what Din had in mind. 

Din greeted him from the other end of their familiar hallway, two coffees in tow as usual. He glanced curiously at the bag under Cobb’s arm.

“That’s… not for me, is it?” 

Cobb nodded nervously as he put it on the ground and started to take a framed piece of artwork out of it.

“Wow, damn Cobb, I didn’t think you’d get to it so quickly, that’s…” And then Din’s breath died in his throat as Cobb turned the art around to face him. 

He looked stunned, barely breathing as he accepted it. Cobb’s eyes locked onto a stain on the wall behind Din’s shoulder. He felt like he was intruding on something private, like he needed to give Din a moment to process this. 

“So, um, I took a little liberty with the color scheme, I hope that’s okay. If there’s anything you don’t like, I can fix it, or just make a new one…”

Din’s breath was coming out in shuddering gasps now, and Cobb finally realized that he was crying. 

“Oh, god, that bad huh? It’s okay, I can make you a new one, I can…”

“It’s perfect,” Din said softly through his sobs. “It looks just like her, but not like the photos. Almost as if you knew her, you know? And you even bought a frame, god you didn’t have to do that,” he said, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes. “Thank you. I will cherish this, and I know Grogu will too.”

Cobb stepped forward hesitantly, hand raised above Din’s shoulder, waiting for an invitation. Din placed the portrait carefully on the bench and closed the distance between them, embracing the other man tightly.

“Thank you Cobb,” he breathed into his ear, the sensation making him shiver. “I know I technically paid you for this, but this is priceless. You’ll never know how much this means to me. Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

Cobb could feel himself blushing, from his head to underneath his scarf. 

“It was my absolute pleasure.”

The next few weeks flew by, and before they knew it, there was snow on the ground. Cobb hated the cold, absolutely despised it. The art building was old and not well insulated, so he would wear his winter coat through the entirety of each class, furry hood pulled up to cover his ears.

Ashoka would laugh at him as she did her daily rounds. “There really are two kinds of people,” she said, looking at Cobb's bundled up, shivering form, and then to Din, naked and sweating slightly under the spotlights.

It was the week before Christmas when Cobb looked at the diner menu and asked, “why is everything peppermint right now? Look at this, they even have a peppermint burger! What the fuck right?”

Din laughed. “It’s Christmas you goofball, of course everything is peppermint.”

“Is it? Damn, lost track of time again,” Cobb said with a chuckle. 

Din tapped a spoon against his mug of hot chocolate.   
“Are you doing anything fun for the holiday?”

Cobb sucked in a breath, then shook his head. “Nah, not really a big Christmas guy. Plus Boba and Fennec will be out of state, so I’ll probably just sleep and paint.”

Din had an unreadable look on his face for a moment, before he said, “if you’re not busy, would you like to spend Christmas with me and Grogu? It’s just the two of us, but Grogu has been dying to meet you. And I’ve never had the opportunity to cook for you, and I make a pretty mean hash brown casserole.”

Cobb’s heart leapt into his throat. He hadn’t been invited to spend Christmas with anyone in years.

“You don’t have to, of course, if you’d rather sleep and paint. But I thought it could be fun,” Din finished lamely, looking anywhere but at Cobb. 

Cobb’s face split into a huge grin. “As long as I’m not intruding, I would love to join you! What kind of cookies does Grogu like? I know you like the macadamia ones, so I’ll make those for you. But kids don’t like those right? I can make a different batch for him, and…”

Din smeared some whipped cream from his hot chocolate on Cobb’s nose with a smile. “That sounds lovely. And Grogu likes just plain chocolate chip, because the kid is about as adventurous as a loaf of bread.”

Cobb laughed as he wiped the whip cream from his nose. “You realize, if we weren’t in public right now, that this would be a declaration of war, right?”

Din grinned mischievously. 

It was December twenty-third when Cobb realized he didn’t have a present for either Din or Grogu. It was bad enough, not having something for the person he loved the most, but it was unforgivable to show up to Christmas without a gift for a fucking seven year old. That night after class Cobb confronted Din about it.

“Din help, I’m a monster and forgot that people give gifts for Christmas. What kinds of things does Grogu like?” He was feeling rather desperate. He wanted the kid to like him so badly.

Din just laughed into his eggnog. “I was going to say you don’t have to worry about it, but I know you will anyway. Uh, let’s see.” He thought for a moment. “Honestly he’s really into art right now, believe it or not. He draws pretty much everything he sees. He’s kind of outgrown crayons and printer paper. So, something artsy I suppose?”

Cobb nodded, taking notes in his phone.

“And don’t you dare get me anything, Cobb Vanth. You already drew me the world's best and most heartwarming portrait.”

Cobb rolled his eyes. “That was a commission, you literally paid me to do that.”

“Still!”

On December twenty-fourth Cobb ran around town like a man possessed. He hit his favorite art stores, and was able to find a sketchbook and a nice starter set of colored pencils for Grogu. (They were probably too nice for a seven year old, but he figured he would grow into them.) 

And then that left Din. What does one buy for the person they love the most, but who doesn’t love them back quite the same way? Any sort of romantic gifts were off the table. And it wasn’t like Cobb didn’t know exactly what Din liked, because he did. But vinyl records of Din’s favorite bands, or coffee beans in his favorite flavors, or anything else just didn’t seem to be enough. What would be enough to show Din how much he appreciated him?

The answer, Cobb realized, was nothing. There was nothing he could do that would adequately convey these complex emotions to Din. 

But, he thought, as he passed a tacky novelties store in the mall, maybe he could at least make him laugh.

The next morning, Cobb pulled into the driveway of a small ranch style house just outside of town, a thin layer of snow coating the roads. He could not remember a time before when he had been quite this nervous. If he fucked this up he would never forgive himself.

As he came up the walkway, there was a little boy watching him through the front window. As soon as he spotted him, he ran from the window, and he could hear a loud voice from inside scream, “Dad! Cobb is here!”

Cobb laughed to himself. He was happy he was apparently already on a first name basis with the kid. 

The door swung open, and there stood Din, clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and an oven mitt on one hand.

“Hey stranger,” he grinned, ushering Cobb inside from the cold. “I’m glad you didn’t freeze on the way here.”

Grogu stood by his dad, dancing back and forth from foot to foot. He was also wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, as well as a small Santa Claus hat. 

Cobb was about to combust at the adorable domesticity of the whole situation. He should have felt like he was intruding, but somehow he already felt like he belonged. 

“You must be Grogu!” he said with a grin as he knelt to be on the child’s level.

“Yup! And you’re Cobb! Dad talks about you aaaaaaall the time! Sometimes even when he’s alone in his room, and…”

Din clamped a hand over Grogu’s mouth with a nervous laugh. “Hah, kids say the darndest things, right?”

Much to Cobb’s relief, Grogu took to him almost immediately. Right away he was bouncing around the house, asking Cobb questions about his art and about what he and his dad did when they were together.

“What kinds of things do you like to draw?” he asked, legs swinging from his kitchen chair as the three of them ate lunch together. 

“Well, I draw lots of things. But my favorites are flowers and people.”

“Is my dad your favorite person to draw?”

Cobb blushed as Din choked on his drink. He assumed that Grogu didn’t know the full circumstances of how Din modeled. 

“I uh, yeah. I’ve never drawn someone as often as I’ve drawn your dad. It's always fun.” He gave Din a sheepish smile.

Was it Cobb’s imagination, or was Din blushing too?

“Can you draw me sometime?” Grogu asked excitedly, taking a bite of casserole that was alarming in size.

“Grogu, please take smaller bites. I’d really love to avoid the emergency room on Christmas if you don’t mind.”

Cobb laughed. Din was a good dad. He was happy he’d finally gotten a chance to see him interact with his son.

“I can draw you anytime you’d like,” Cobb said with a smile.

“After lunch?”

Din laughed. “Grogu, you have been bugging me all morning about presents, did you forget?”

Grogu gasped audibly. “I forgot!” he practically screeched. 

Cobb helped Din clean up after lunch, as Grogu raced across the house to the Christmas tree in the living room. This was nice, he thought to himself. He didn’t even own a Christmas tree. Hadn’t even owned one, back when….

“Sorry if he’s asking you too many questions,” Din said with an exasperated laugh as the two of them did the dishes, side by side. “I told him not to bombard you, before you got here. But the kid has been talking about meeting you for days now.”

Cobb grinned. “I’m just relieved he seems to like me.”

Din returned Cobb’s smile. “Of course he does, what’s not to like?”

Din and Cobb watched Grogu open presents for about an hour after that. Cobb had been expecting him to be one of those kids that raced through his gifts, barely glancing at each one before ripping the wrapping paper off the next one. But it was quite the opposite. Grogu opened each package with care, then marveled at each gift in turn.

“You know Grogu, we’re not going to save this wrapping paper for next year. You’re allowed to go faster.”

Grogu glared at Din. “Daaaad, you’re embarrassing me in front of Cobb!”

The last present under the tree was from Cobb. Grogu grinned wide as he opened it.

“Ooooooh,” he exclaimed as he took out the sketchbook and colored pencils. “Is this what you use when you do art, Cobb?”

“Sometimes! It’s one of the things I use!”

“Show me how to use them!” Grogu yelled, taking Cobb by the hand out to the kitchen table, his other presents left behind.

Cobb looked behind him at Din as he was led to the other room. Din just smiled and shrugged, as if to say, “what can you do?”

The two of them drew at the table for hours, sharing Grogu’s newfound art supplies. As promised, Cobb drew a quick portrait of Grogu, who practically hyperventilated in excitement.

“This is so good! Can you draw me as a cowboy next?”

After Din had cleaned up the living room, he sat at the kitchen table and watched fondly as his son and his friend worked on art. Cobb could feel his face flush under Din’s loving scrutiny. 

“Cobb! Draw my dad now!” Grogu exclaimed as he sharpened a pencil, shavings going all over the table and the floor.

Din snorted. “I think he’s probably sick of drawing me by now, buddy.”

But Cobb had already started a new page, smiling as he said, “hold still Din.”

Din froze, practically holding his breath as Cobb started to draw him. They locked eyes as Cobb would glance up from the page, sharing a moment that neither of them could quite put a name to. 

And then Cobb was showing the sketch to Grogu, who loudly proclaimed it to be, “even better than a camera picture!”

Cobb smiled sheepishly. He turned to Din. 

“Would you like to see?”

Din nodded fervently as Cobb passed him the sketchbook. He stilled as he took in the drawing, looking it up and down. 

“Wow…” he said, breathless. Cobb laughed.

“You act like you’ve never seen a drawing of yourself before. Surely you see the stuff the other students draw of you?”

“Well yeah, but I’ve never seen yours.”

Cobb suddenly remembered that he had never shown any of his figure studies to Din before. 

“Well, remind me and I’ll show you next class.”

Grogu perked up from where he was drawing. “I want to come with you to drawing school!”

Din just ruffled Grogu’s fluffy hair. “Maybe when you’re older.”

Cobb stuck around until late that evening, past even when Grogu had gone to bed. He and Din sat on the couch, chatting and drinking eggnog. Cobb turned to Din.

“I actually have a gift for you too, but it’s kind of just a joke so don’t expect anything actually cool.”

He pulled out a small package, wrapped in the same paper as Grogu’s had been. Din glared at him.

“What did I say about not getting me anything?”

Cobb just laughed. “It cost me like a whole ten dollars, Din. Just open it, it’s very stupid.”

Din sighed as he rolled his eyes. He carefully opened the package, and Cobb was struck once again by how similar the father/son duo was. 

Din barked out a laugh as he pulled out a coffee mug that said “world’s okayest dad” on it.

“Ah thanks Cobb, Grogu is clearly not old enough to appreciate a good gift like this yet.”

Cobb grinned. “Give him a few years, he will.”

Din chuckled as he put the mug on the coffee table. “I got you something too actually, and it is also very stupid. Hang on, let me grab it.”

Din excused himself to the other room. Cobb looked around the living room, taking in the Christmas tree filled with a child’s homemade ornaments and the mantle filled with photos of Din, Grogu, and other family and friends. His stomach did a little flip when he finally noticed the portrait he had made in a place of honor among the other pictures. 

Din returned holding a large, lumpy package. He sat down and offered it to Cobb, who looked curiously as he inspected it. 

“It’s not going to bite, you know.”

Cobb laughed as he opened it, and inside was a familiar, well-worn blue fabric. He gasped.

“Your hoodie?” he asked. Din nodded with a soft smile.

“You borrow it often enough, I thought you should have it.”

“Are you sure? This is your favorite isn’t it?”

The smile Din was giving Cobb was making him positively weak in the knees. If he had been standing, he would have fallen promptly to the floor.

“Of course, that’s why I want you to have it.”

Cobb pulled the sweater on, marveling at the familiar smell and feeling that was all Din.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Din scooted closer to Cobb and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Cobb.”

Cobb sighed. “Merry Christmas, Din.” He rested his head on top of the other man’s.

As the two of them fell asleep, Cobb couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how happy he was, and wondering what he had done to deserve Din and Grogu in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m godtier1 on tumblr, drop me a line and let’s chat about Din x Cobb!!


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